The Way It Should Be
by FairDrea
Summary: Spin off to Same As It Never Was. Donatello cannot come to grips with what the future holds for his family in the AU he was unfortunate enough to visit. He's bound and determin to change the outcome for the better in any way he can. *Rating change*
1. Chapter 1

Yet another spin off as Same as it Never Was, possibly one of the best and most shocking eps of the new cartoon series. Well, pre Fast Forward and Back to the Sewer. I'm not all together sure I should be posting this. It's something I've been working on for five years and even after five years I haven't gotten that far – school, work and a new born don't allow much time for writing. But it's been a while since I've done anything fanfic related and I want back in. So here it is. Give me some feedback and let me know if you guys are liking what you're seeing. I sure hope ya do!!

Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT, if I did…well, Raph would be in a hell of a lot of trouble! Lol. I just take liberties with their characters as I please. Considering the outcome, they don't have much room for griping about it. All OC's that will appear later on in the fic are mine however.

**Chapter One**

"Don, why do you have to do this?"

The turtle in question resisted the strong urge to yank at the ends of his bandana and shot his older brother a weak glare, then turned back to his computer. There was no way he was going to explain his decision yet again. How the hell many ways was there to say, "I need to do this so I can sleep at night"?

"Come on Donnie. I know what you went through was pretty disturbing, but you've got to get over it," Leonardo persisted.

Okay, so apparently he _would_ have to explain it again. Man, he was seriously getting sick of this. Pushing away from the desk, Donatello stood and turned to face his brother. "Pretty disturbing? It was a damn nightmare Leo! Why can't you just be as understanding as Raph and Mikey were?"

"Yeah Leo, lay off the guy, would ya?" Raph called from the couch where he, Michelangelo and Casey were watching pro wresting.

"Thanks Raph." Donnie sighed and shook his head. "I know you're worried Leo, but that's not going to stop me, okay? You weren't there. You didn't have to watch your brothers all get killed in the span of ten minutes. You didn't stand-." Donnie paused to cast an apprehensive glance at the occupants of the couch and lowered his voice. "You didn't stand over Splinters grave listening to a way too hardened Mikey telling you how he was killed. Not how he died Leo…how he was killed. It's hard to deal with the knowledge that there's a reality out there like that. Especially when you know there's a way you can fix it."

"That's just it though," Leo argued, "you don't know! What if you get stuck there? What if we can't get you back?"

Donatello bit back another sigh of exasperation. "I wouldn't have given the idea a second thought if I didn't think it could be done. Leo…look." Taking a hold of his brothers arm, he turned him so that they were both looking over the cavernous lair that had become their home. It was clean now: the floor swept, all books, weapons and various inventions to alleviate boredom put away. The beat-up coffee table in the living room was cleared, a miracle in itself, but looked well on its way to being cluttered again. Their two brothers, Michelangelo and Raphael were in a heated discussion over which wrestler had made the better commissioner. So far it sounded like the credit was going to Mick Foley.

"Could you deal with the fact that in some other reality this was destroyed? That our brothers were dead? That we all pretty much abandoned Mikey?" Don asked, then went on to tell Leo the one thing he'd kept to himself. He was desperate to make Leo understand. "When I saw you and Raph there, you guys were two seconds away from killing each other. If you thought you had a chance to change that, wouldn't you take it?"

Leo stared straight ahead, silent. Finally, he said, "Couldn't you take one of us with you?"

"No." Donnie shook his head sadly. "You, Mike and Raph all exist in that reality. I…don't."

"What about Splinter?"

"He wouldn't want to see what's happened to you guys and that's way too much of a shock-bringing back a Sensei they all believe to be dead."

"Jesus Don, I really don't like this."

Donnie placed a hand on Leo's shoulder. He could feel his older brothers resolve crumbling. "Leatherhead and April are helping me with this. They know what to do if it works and they know what to do if something goes wrong. Just calm down and trust me, okay?"

"I do trust you Don. You're the smartest guy I know." Leo faced him, his gaze troubled. "I just don't want whatever happened in that reality to happen here."

Donnie watched him walk off and tried not to feel guilty. He was doing the right thing. He was going to make a big change in one world that he could never make in this one. He was going to help his family. And he was going to stop having nightmares about something that could never be.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"So you've got the right coordinates…but you're unsure of the date?" April asked uncertainly, looking over a detailed layout of the program Donatello had been working on for weeks, her green eyes scanning every little detail.

A few feet away, studying an open door frame that was made entirely from metal and looked as if it would be much more at home in the Triceriton galaxy than in a cramped corner of the lair, Donnie looked back at April. "Yeah. Back when all of the craziness with the Triceriton's and the Republic was going on, I was able to steal a few programs from the computer system. Nothing really serious, but it helped. Unfortunately, none of the programs gave much information on a time leap this big and those that did were pretty vague. I think between the three of us though, we were able to figure it out." Donnie walked over to April and clicked to a separate screen on the computer, explaining to her how the machine would work. "The coordinates were relatively easy to obtain. The year and time, however, wasn't. Doesn't really help that whatever I was told wasn't that specific. A couple of years…about thirty. I set it for three years a head from today's date so hopefully it will only be off by one or two."

"And you're sure you want to do this?"

The look Donnie gave April said it all. Yes, he wanted to do this, yes he was aware that something could go really wrong but he was tired of people asking and wished they would stop.

April held her hands up in front of her with a weak smile. "Okay, sorry I asked." Tucking a strand of bright red hair behind her ear, she turned back to the screen, her eyes taking in all numbers, every miniscule detail. She couldn't help but think that Donnie was a complete genius. If he was human and there was no Casey to be somewhat involved with…and maybe if he was just a little older…She grinned ruefully. That was a dangerous train of thought to be following. But, he really was brilliant.

"All is finished here, Donatello." A large mutated crocodile in a white lab coat came around the open doorway, studying the device critically from behind a pair of thin, wire rimmed glasses. "There seems to be not much else we can do but attempt to use it and pray that all goes well."

"Thanks Leatherhead. I'm glad you helped me out with this. As always, it's been a pleasure working with you," Donnie said, holding out a hand.

Leatherhead grasped it, smiling warily. "I worry for you, my friend. But I also know you would not risk such a journey if you were uncertain of the results." Releasing his friend's hand, Leatherhead reached into the breast pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a small remote. "The portal device is designed to create a time pocket upon your arrival in this other reality. It will remain dormant until you activate it with this and can only be activated once, so do not use it until you're certain you want to return. The portal will remain open for a matter of minutes; then it and the time pocket will disappear."

Donnie took the remote and stared at it. It was hard to believe that something so small was in control of whether or not he made it back home. Doubt started to nag at him. It had before, but never with this much persistence. He almost wanted to give in, to say screw it and stay where he knew his family was alive and together. Before he could change his mind, he walked over to where his bag lay on the floor several feet away and tucked the remote in one of the inner pockets. Several other things were packed in there. Disks filled with important information, a digital camcorder April insisted he try using (although he probably wouldn't) a few of his own inventions he thought might help, and now the remote. There wasn't much else for him to do but grab his bo staff and go.

Pushing his doubt to the far recess of his mind, Donnie pulled the zipper shut, stood and slung the bag over his shoulder. When he turned, his brothers were waiting for him along with Splinter. "Well," he stated hesitantly, "guess I should probably get this over with."

Michelangelo approached him first, giving him a hug and slapping his back extra hard. "Have a fun trip Donnie. Tell future me I say hi."

Donnie smiled and nodded, but wouldn't promise anything. The future Mikey was nowhere near as carefree and optimistic as this one was. Donnie wasn't sure he'd appreciate being told that the younger version of him with body and family intact said hi.

Raphael was next. He tossed Donnie his bo with a smirk, clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Later brianiac." That was it. Never let it be said that Raph was one for long goodbyes. But his abruptness made Donnie feel better. At least one of his brothers seemed to have faith that he was going to be coming back.

Donnie moved on to Leo and Splinter, half dreading what his oldest brother would say. He already knew how Splinter felt. His sensei, after hearing a detailed account of what had happened in the dimension Donatello had been sent to, had only hesitated for a moment when the purple-masked turtle had told him he wanted to make things better. Out of all of his family, Splinter had been the most understanding.

Leonardo surprised him though. No lecture, no asking once again if Donatello was sure about this. There was a tentative look, but then Leonardo hugged his younger brother tightly. "Just hurry back, okay? We need ya here Donnie," he murmured.

"I will Leo. I promise."

Donatello stepped away from his bother and gave him a brave smile. "I'll be back before you even get a chance to miss me."

"Doubtful."

Turning away from Leonardo, the younger turtle shared a quick goodbye with Splinter and finally faced the portal. "Go for it, April," he instructed, not looking back. If he did, he might want to stay. And if he stayed, so did the nightmares.

There was a long pause, followed by the click-clack of April's fingers striking the keys. Then there was a low, electrical hum. Energy filled the lair, waves upon waves of it and it was all flowing towards the same place-that gaping doorway.

Donnie watched as volts of blue pulsated around the doorway, collecting and slithering over the metal like snakes. Soon, they covered the frame, emanating a blinding neon blue. The humming became louder, almost deafening. A sudden crack echoed through the lair and everything fell silent.

The portal was open, a swirling vortex of blues and greens that twisted slowly. A gentle wind, hardly noticeable, spilled from the opening. It brushed Donatello's feet and he swallowed hard. Man, he sure hoped this worked.

"Dude, that was kind of awesome," he heard Michelangelo say.

"Don…" That was Leo, forming another protest.

It went unheeded because before he could get much further than that one syllable, Donatello squared his shoulders and walked into the portal, leaving his world and his family behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Same applies. Own nothing of TMNT. OC's appearing in this chapter – Angie, Kit, and Lanni.

**Chapter Two**

If there was one complaint that Donatello had about any form of space, time or dimension travel, it was that the landings were never easy. There always seemed to be some kind of falling involved and this time was no exception. At least there was something to break his fall this time. Or someone.

"Ohhh…I think you just broke my back," a low, feminine voice groaned from beneath him.

Recovering quickly, Donatello rolled off her and turned to help. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

The woman was on her hands and knees, hunched over, a mass of straight black hair streaked with violet hiding her face. "Jeez Mikey, could you watch out next time?" she muttered.

"Not Mikey." Donatello laid a hand on the woman's shoulder, noting with mild surprise how hard the muscle was there. The built them tough in this other dimension, tough enough to withstand a collision with a mutant turtle. Hopefully. "Ma'am?"

She shook her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder and turned to look at him, her vibrant blue eyes narrowed in an unconvincing glare. They narrowed further, her brow furrowing as she stared. "Donatello?"

He stared back at the young woman, trying to place her. She looked familiar: black hair, blue eyes, full lips, a collection of earrings in the one ear visible and two small hoops adorning her brow. "Angel?"

Standing slowly, never taking her eyes from him, Angel nodded. She was all grown up now, wearing jeans that fit, and a black halter-top that she filled out quite nicely. She wasn't much taller than she had been when she was a kid. A foot and a half, two at the most but her eyes were those of a young woman who was wise beyond her years. Donatello supposed the Shredder was to thank for that one.

"Where have you been?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone thought you were dead!"

"Well, obviously I'm not. Or at least this me isn't."

"What?"

He shook his head dismissively. "Never mind…too confusing. Where is everyone?"

"Right here."

The sound of his younger brother's voice, hard and roughened by age, made Donatello wince. He turned slowly, not really wanting to see what had happened to the youngest of their clan, but knowing he had little choice in the matter.

Michelangelo stood at the top of a short flight of stairs leading into the room Donnie and Angel were standing in. His arm was severed just above where his elbow should have been, his stance was rigid and he wore not even the slightest trace of a smile. Donatello's heart sank. His invention had failed him. He was too late.

"Where have you been, Donnie?"

And his heart lifted a little-not much, but enough to renew his hope. There was no accusation in Michelangelo's tone, no anger like there had been before-just curiosity and hurt. Donatello went to him and pulled his little brother into his arms, hugging him hard. "It's a long story Mikey, but I'll explain it. How long have I been missing?"

Michelangelo was hesitant to return the hug and first, then clung with startling tenacity. "Ten years, Donnie," he murmured, his voice trembling. "You've been gone ten years."

"Sensei?"

The sudden tension in Michelangelo's shoulders was answer enough. Splinter was gone. "I can take you to him," he offered, pulling back and looking solemnly at Donatello.

"No Mikey. That's okay. Where's April?"

"This way." He started to turn around, looking past Donatello. "Angel, you'd better tag along. April's lookin' for a back up on the new recon mission."

The three walked through a maze of crumbling hallways. Huge sections had been torn from the walls and through the yawning holes one could see the city. A stench, thick and oppressive, hung over what had once been New York, clinging to the remains. Although not as overwhelming as it had been during his first trip into this reality, it was still there and Donatello recognized it for what it was. Death.

They passed through a gaping hole to the right that slightly resembled what may have, at one time, been a doorway, and entered into a well lit main room where a tall woman with bright red hair and an even taller man with an unruly mop of black hair stood facing each other, toe to toe, hostility reverberating from them.

The sight of Casey Jones was a shock to Donatello. The man had been dead the last time he'd been in this world. Well, he wasn't dead now. Different, but not dead. He was a few inches taller, his shoulders broader, his hair shorn and his leanness proof that the last few years had been very hard on him.

"Hey guys," Michelangelo interrupted them, "look who I found."

Two heads turned and two pairs of eyes-one a rich green, the other icy blue-went wide with shock. Casey's gaze warmed momentarily; then went cool and distant, reminding Donatello of cold steel.

"Hey Donnie," he said, voice flat.

Donatello nodded once in greeting; then turned his gaze to April. She was already coming toward him. Her eyes never lost their welcoming glow, net even after she'd thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him hard enough to cut off his air supply for a few seconds.

"I knew you'd come back," she whispered fiercely. "Where have you been?"

Donatello pulled back, stepped away. "That's a really long story. One I'd rather tell only once with everyone here. Where's Leo and Raph?"

"Gone," Casey answered in the same flat tone he'd used to say hi. "And we don't really have time for a story. We've got a war to fight and I'm-."

"You're not going anywhere!" April snapped, whirling around and pinning Casey with a chilly glare. "We've already exhausted this subject, Casey. It's too dangerous and we don't have nearly enough men to take on the Shredder right now. Would you just use your had and listen to me for once? If you go out there tonight, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"What makes you so sure April, huh? Man, never thought I'd see the day when my own girlfriend lost complete faith in me. What the hell makes you so certain I'm gonna get killed?"

"I don't know!" April cried passionately. Tears collected in her eyes and the anger so clearly stamped on her face started looking more like blind panic. "I just have a…a feeling."

"You have a feeling that I'm gonna die?"

His condescending tone brought the anger back, stronger than before. April squared her shoulders, biting the inside of her bottom lip until she tasted blood. No way was she offering the jackass any form of response.

"Oh, you're right April. If you have a _feeling _that I'm gonna get whacked then I'd better just stay here all safe and sound. Everyone else stuck out there is just gonna have to wait because my girlfriend has a feeling that 'ol Shredhead's gonna do me in. Christ, April, could you be any more para-."

He was interrupted again, this time by Donatello. "She's right."

Silence fell and all eyes turned to the purple masked turtle.

"What do you mean, she's right?" Casey demanded angrily.

"I mean…she's right," Donatello reiterated. "Sorry Case…you go out there and that's it for you, man."

"Great. Just great!"

Casey threw his hands up and released a humorless bark of laughter.

"Now the guy who hasn't even been around for the past ten years has a feeling. Jeez, this is bullshit!"

Beside Donatello, Michelangelo tensed and made an advance on Casey. Donatello grabbed his arm to stop him, shaking his head slowly.

"It's not a feeling, Casey. I know you'll get killed," he stated evenly. "I've been in this hell before. Twenty years in the future actually and you weren't there. You'd been killed the night you went after the Shredder."

April released a startled moan, slapping a hand over her mouth and staring wide-eyed at Donatello as Casey's ice blue eyes narrowed. They all knew better than to doubt the brainy terrapin. Too often had they been involved in time and dimension jumps not to believe such things did not exist.

"Now, like I said before…this is a long story and I only want to explain it once. I want Raph and Leo here for it. We'll need their help if we're going to put a stop to all of this. Can you get them April?"

Dropping her hand to her side, April snapped her mouth shut and nodded.

"Angel, where's Kit?"

"Right here," a young voice with an unmistakable southern drawl answered.

The owner of the voice appeared from under the arch of a crumbling doorway to the right. She was a slight thing with mink brown hair and wide eyes the color of chocolate. Her ensemble was simple-faded blue jeans frayed at the cuffs, dark leather boots, an orange hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The only thing that made her appearance look not so Southern belle, the one thing that really stood out about her, was the semi-automatic strapped to the outside of her thigh.

She walked forward, coming to a stop between Angel and Michelangelo. Those deep, brown eyes skirted to the mutant, something warm flashing briefly in their depths that vanished all together when she turned her gaze to April.

"Did you need something?"

"Yeah. The mission," April tried not to sneer when she said the word but failed, "has been cancelled. We won't need you to prep any medical equipment. But, I will need some help from your friends. Can you find them and bring them here?"

Kit nodded; then disappeared, going out the same way she came in.

Donatello watched the girl go, confused by her appearance and April's request to speak with the strangers friends. He'd never even so much as heard mention of these women on his last trip here. He was about to ask who the three women were when Kit returned with two older women in tow.

The tallest and oldest looking could have easily been referred to as a blond bombshell. She had a waterfall of layered blond hair with bleached highlights and light brown lowlights. The mass fell to a trim waist and framed an oval shaped face with high cheekbones and a pair of the widest blue eyes Donatello had ever seen.

She wore jeans that were in bad need of repair unless they'd been fashioned that way. They were stone-washed, torn slightly in several places and hung low on her flared hips. Black boots matched the belt she wore with a silver buckle and the outfit was topped off by a navy blue t-shirt. The letters NYPD stretched over a decent sized chest. The only jewelry she wore was a pair of scarred dog tags on a chain around her neck.

The woman beside her had deep, mocha colored skin and was just as curvaceous as the blond. Her wavy black hair was pulled back in a twist that several unruly strands had escaped from. They hung over caramel colored eyes flecked with green and fringed by thick, long lashes. Silver winked at her ears where ten hoops dangled-five in each.

Dark blue jeans, black boots, a black belt and a forest green tank top worn under a long sleeved, off the shoulder, black mesh shirt completed her ensemble.

Neither woman was exactly slim. Trim would have been a far better word used to describe them-or muscular because these two certainly looked like they could dish it out in a fight. Both women carried semi-automatic hand guns. The blond had a pair of them, one strapped to the outside of each thigh. The dark haired woman had one strapped to her left thigh as well but on her right side, in a black lacquered sheath with gold and red tassels at the opening, was a samurai sword.

"You wanted to see us?" the blond asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was low and smoky and held the faintest trace of arrogance.

"Yeah." April stepped forward to confront the two. "We need your help. This is Donatello, Michelangelo's brother. Donny, this is Angela," she gestured toward the blond, then to the dark haired woman, "and this is Lahlani. Angela worked on the special task division for the New York police department before Shredder started his take over the city and Lani is an ex assassin. She worked for some loaded entrepreneur in Japan named Cao Lyn. Both are expert trackers and should be able to find your brothers in no time, okay? That's…not okay. You're frowning. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Donatello murmured; then hesitantly added, "I'm just trying to figure out why you didn't get help from these guys twenty years in the future. I mean…when I was here, you never mentioned anything about these two and I don't remember even seeing them." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he continued to think aloud. "Then again…I didn't see Casey but that's because he had di-oh."

"Nice catch," April muttered.

Angela studied Donatello's sheepish expression for a few seconds trying to understand what he was talking about. He'd been here twenty years in the future but Casey Jones over there hadn't? Then it hit her. She looked over at Lani only to see the other woman watching her with the same expression of understanding.

"So apparently we die sometime within the next twenty years."

"Apparently," Lani agreed with a sardonic grin.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking," Donatello sputtered. "Well, I was thinking, but I shouldn't have-."

Lani raised her hand to stop him, her grin transforming into a compassionate smile. "Don't apologize. It's okay…really and regardless of that…slightly alarming fact, we still have your brothers to find. We'll be back by tomorrow and if we're not, Kit knows how to find us."

The two women started to leave, quietly speaking to each other. Their movements signaled and end to the meeting and a few of the others took their leave as well-Kit going with Lani and Angela, Angel disappearing down a corridor to the right where she was joined by a young man in camouflage pants and a black t-shirt, and Casey retreating to a table across the room covered with maps of the city.

"Ang," April called out before the three women disappeared.

The blond ex-cop turned and April stared at the woman, looking lost and guilty, then she sighed. "I-I'm really sorry."

A dark, pained expression crossed Angela's face as a profound sadness flashed in the depths of her clear blue eyes. It was gone the next second, replaced by cool detachment. With a curt not to April, Angela turned and followed her friends out.

Donatello opened his mouth, curious to know what had just transpired between the two women and Michelangelo stopped hi, putting a hand on Donatello's shoulder and shaking his head. "Don't ask. That's another one of those long stories and trust me when I say you don't want to hear it. You hungry?"

Donatello grinned at his younger brother. "Depends. You guys got any pizza around here?"

"Jeez Donnie," Michelangelo placed a hand over his chest and looked mockingly affronted. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

Following Michelangelo out of the large meeting room, Donatello felt his spirits lift. His little brother was no where near as cynical as he had been twenty years in the future. That was a good sign. That and Casey wasn't dead…another point in their favor. Pair that with the fact that they had a little more man…well, woman power and their chances for finally stopping the Shredder were starting to look a whole lot better.

*~*~*~*~*

Years ago the sight of so many slain corpses would have terrified the hell out of her. Not now though. Not after being on the force and certainly not after seeing the carnage this Shredder guy had brought upon the once-so-glorious city of New York.

This wasn't his work though. Not unless he'd started killing his own. Now, she wouldn't put it past him. The Shredder certainly seemed like the ruthless I'll-kill-you-because-you-screwed-up type. But this many at once and all left sprawled on the street to decay? Not a chance. No…_he'd_ done this. She knew that before she even saw the three bullet sized holes in a nice clean row down the spine of the first foot solider she came across. There weren't many weapons she knew of that left a wound like that.

Sighing, Angela leaned forward, crossing her arms over the handle bars of her black and silver racing bike. Lord, this wasn't good. She surveyed the scene a moment longer, counting the bodies and watching for any movement. Seventeen bodies…blood everywhere. What a mess.

She sat up, sighing again and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the inside pocked of her worn leather jacket. Nasty habit, she knew that. But what did it matter? She'd be dead within twenty years. And sure, twenty years was a lot of time. She would be 48 by then. But at the moment it sure as hell didn't seem like a lot of time. She didn't even know if she would get that full twenty years.

Hot tears stung Angela's eyes. Cursing, she swiped angrily at the few that had escaped, then clamped the cigarette between her teeth and lit it.

Three drags and she was calm. The tears were gone. She slowly smoked the rest of the cigarette, thinking of several places Raphael could be. Maybe if she just followed the trail of destruction and lifeless bodies…

"This from a guy who taught me how to control my rage," she murmured sadly.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews so far guys. Glad to see this has caught some positive attention. I'm going to post one more chapter but the others are going to probably take a while. I want to make some headway on it before I start getting all post-crazy. Make sure I've got enough material so that I don't keep people waiting too long between chapters. Thanks for the support though! This post is just to give you guys a little insight into Raph and Angela's relationship. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: All OC's mentioned in this chapter (Angela, Matt, Kit and Ed Millet) are my creations. References to Entertainment Weekly and Harry Connick Jr. belong to their respective creators. I don't own either.

**Chapter Three**

She was so angry. No, she was livid. Beyond livid! She was scared and hurt as well but it was the anger that she latched onto, shoving the conflicting emotions aside. They wouldn't help her get through this. But the anger…the anger definitely would.

The hooded figure was still beating the crap out of Matt, giving her husband no chance to fight back. Not that he deserved a chance. The bastard hadn't given her much of one.

Pressed into the corner of the living room, Angela watched the beating of her husband, thinking only of how mad she was. She never once thought about the stranger or how he might turn on her when he was finished meting out punishment to Matt.

Finally, the stranger let up and stepped back as Matt released a pitiful groan and slumped to the floor. His head lolled once to the side, a final attempt to remain conscious - then he was out.

Angela couldn't stop staring at him, even when the stranger approached her and asked if she was okay. He asked again, gently grasping her arm. That touch was like the gate opening for the bull riders at a rodeo. Angela lunged at Matt, her fingers curled into vicious claws. She was ready to finish the job, ready to kill him for what he'd done to her.

"Whoa, lady," the stranger said, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling her back.

She struggled against his hold, thrashing like a wild animal, lashing out in desperate attempts to strike Matt.

"Hey, knock it off, would ya?"

The stranger's arm tightened around her until her back was pressed against his hard chest. His other arm came around her, pinning hers to her sides. "Seriously lady, would you calm down?"

The red haze clouding her mind suddenly subsided and the fear and pain from her husband's betrayal replaced it. Tears filled Angela's eyes and spilled over, racing down her cheeks. Although she felt as if she were collapsing from the inside out, she continued to struggle against the stranger, not ready to give up yet.

"No!" she cried pitifully, forgetting about the sorry state of her jaw. Pain exploded in the side of her face, sweeping up the side of her head and taking all of the fight out of her. An agonized sob escaped her as her legs gave out. Whether she wanted to continue her efforts or not was no longer her choice to make. Her body was beaten, her heart shattered. It couldn't take anymore, physically or emotionally.

"Hey…hey, it's okay. You're alright."

His voice was soothing and low. He had an accent…New Jersey maybe. Had she been in a better state of mind, she would have defined his voice as sexy, but right now it was comforting and that's what she really needed. The fact that he was a stranger who had come through the open balcony doors was irrelevant. He had pried Matt off of her. He'd saved her life.

Turning in his arms, she clutched at the fabric of his dark red sweatshirt, hanging on so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her body was trembling uncontrollably now, not only from her sobs but also from shock. She was a cop. She wasn't supposed to get caught up in situations like this. But here she was, one of New York's finest, betrayed and beaten by her husband. And to make matters worse…beaten and betrayed by one of her own.

Matt ranked higher than her, therefore the other agents, the head of their department and several other ranking officers had a great deal of respect for him. There was no point in pressing charges. Any report she filed would undeniably be thrown out. She might even lose her job. And forget trying for a divorce. Matt's connections would make that impossible. She was trapped.

With that thought, the hysterics kicked in. She clung harder, attempted to move closer to the man who protected her, all without realizing she was doing so.

"Man, this has got to stop."

The stranger put some distance between them, grasping her shoulders and giving her a hard shake.

Angela's crying ceased on a hiccup of surprise as she saw the face of her rescuer for the first time. The hood of his sweatshirt had fallen back, revealing the red masked face of a turtle. Her wide-eyed gaze fell to one of the hands griping her arms. Green…three fingered.

"Oooh, my God," she breathed, going absolutely still.

"You wanna faint, go right ahead. Won't be the first time," the turtle muttered, his thickly accented voice much harsher than the tone he'd used with her earlier.

She almost started to cry again simply because she wanted that gentle, comforting voice back. Biting her lip, reminding herself that she was a goddamn cop, not some sniveling scaredy-cat, Angela bit her lip and stubbornly shook her head. Only once though. Any more than that would be acting like a child who'd hit their head on the edge of a coffee table or something along those lines.

"You're not gonna faint?"

Another quick shake of the head.

"Alright. Glad to hear I'm not dealin' with your average spineless chick."

Angela glared at the mutated turtle and he grinned back. She silently, and quite grudgingly, admitted to herself that he had a rather cute grin.

"I'm Raphael," he went on to say. "You got a name?"

"Agent Rhyerson," she replied with forced cockiness. All she received for her efforts was another shooting pain down the side of her face and a knowing smirk from Raphael. Shoulders slumping, she sighed and, barley moving her mouth, said, "Angela."

"Well…Angela, how about we move to the couch, huh?"

He stood, then offered her his hand and helped her up. The left side of her hip screamed in protest, causing her to wince and suck in air through her clenched teeth.

"Damn. How much damage did that guy do before I got here?" Raphael asked.

Angela gave him a dark look. "Enough."

There were no more words exchanged for a while after that. Raphael sat her down on the couch, checked her jaw to make sure it was only badly bruised and not broken, then disappeared into the kitchen after she'd told him where to find the aspirin.

Angela gently ran her fingers over her jaw, her mind wandering. This had to be, hands down, the strangest thing that had ever happened to her. Here she was, lucky enough to have survived a beating by a man twice her size and now sitting on her couch, waiting on a five foot seven talking mutant turtle. At least, she figured he was about five seven. She was five six and he was about an inch taller than her.

_For God sakes Ang…there's a mutant turtle in your apartment and you're thinking about how tall he is? Run, you fool! Even if he doesn't hurt you, Matt sure as hell will!_

But she didn't want to run. She trusted Raphael, oddly enough. He'd saved her and he was being really nice about helping her. When he wasn't being arrogant or sarcastic that is.

"Here."

Angela jumped and looked up at Raphael, prepared to glare at him but saw the ice pack in his hand and smiled weakly instead. She accepted it, immediately placing it against her jaw as she watched him circle the couch and sit down beside her. He offered her two pills and a glass of water next. Never taking her eyes from him, she tossed the pills in her mouth and downed the water in several, slow gulps.

It must have been the baggy jeans and hooded sweatshirt that made her feel at ease with his presence, she decided, setting the empty glass on a bulky mahogany coffee table. He looked like a number of older kids on the street she'd dealt with at one time or another. She was used to dealing with people like that.

"Alright lady, I wanna get one thing straight right now," Raphael said after enduring her silent stare for several minutes. "I ain't here to hurt you, okay?"

Angela nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"But-."

_Told you you should have ran!_

"-I will if you go tellin' any of your fed buddies about me, got it?"

He wouldn't hurt her. She could see that in the depths of his intense, dark eyes. No, he wouldn't hurt her at all. No one would believe her if she told them of her little Super Turtle. He probably knew that, so she didn't understand what he was worried about.

"I won't," she murmured softly, careful not to move her jaw too much.

Raphael nodded. "Good. Now, while we're waitin' for those pills to kick in, I'll tell you what happened to make me look like this and when I'm finished, you're gonna talk. Deal?"

"Deal," Angela agreed.

His story took over twenty minutes and answered a great deal of Angela's questions, including the question of age. He was twenty five, a year and a half younger than her. By the time he was finished, her jaw felt marginally better, as did her mood.

"So, you ready to answer some questions?" he asked.

Angela thought about it, then leaned toward him and rapped lightly on his chest. A dull thunk-thunk-thunk caused her to grin sheepishly and Raphael to raise a brow in question.

"Sorry. Just…had to check. Okay, I'm ready," she said.

A quick smiled flashed across his face. "You got a really nice voice. So, you okay?"

Blind-sided by his flippant compliment, it took a while for Angela to gather her wits and respond.

"Physically, yeah. My jaw and head are probably going to hurt for quite a while and there's probably one hell of a bruise covering the entire left side of my leg, but that will heal. Emotionally-."

Her throat closed up and a numb feeling of emptiness swept over her. She drew a shuddering breath, trying to fight off the pain. "Emotionally, not so much."

"Well, what happened? Why did your boyfriend-."

"Husband," Angela corrected.

"Jeez, you married that guy?!"

"A month and one week ago. And don't look at me like that. What you saw was a first. Matt's never tried to hurt me before."

"Then why now?"

"I closed on his case. He was investigating this guy we had pinned as a suspect in this kidnap/murder case. His name is Ed Millet. We believed he was behind the disappearance of several young women in the area. Seven reported. Two of their bodies turned up a couple weeks ago. Of course, even with the autopsy we didn't have enough evidence on the guy. Just a few minor felony charges, a few reports of spousal abuse and a lot of loose ends.

"It was Matt's case. I was assigned to the paperwork. But I kept noticing these little details Matt kept missing. They really started to add up. So I…started doing a little investigating myself. It started small. I didn't want anyone to find out what I was up to. I went to see Millet's wife. I told Matt I'd be working late and when he left for the day I went to see Janice, the wife. She wasn't cooperative at first even though I told her I was just doing a follow up on a report of domestic violence. She came around eventually though…started talking and defending her husband in a really nervous way. Like she expected him to jump out and attack her."

"Where was he?"

"Millet? According to her he was at work, third shift at some warehouse in Queens. Of course, we already knew that he'd quit back in April to avoid a sexual harassment law suit that his co-worker Tammy Gould would have filed against him. The fact that she disappeared two days later was what put him on the list of suspects. Janice had no idea that he'd quit

"I was about to give up when she told me about their lake cabin. We had no record of another place of residence and Janice had never been there but she said Ed had been talking about how they should start planning to spend a week there. It took a lot of ass kissing and fakeness on my part but I managed to get an address out of her and it turned out the address was under a different name-Tony Vice, a man who'd passed on 10 years ago. The day after my visit with Janice, she disappeared. Two days later, on my day off, I drove out to the lake cabin."

"Ya find anything?"

Angela lowered her gaze and picked at the fabric of her jeans, trying to black out the images from that day-three girls huddled in a dank, musty basement, their clothing torn and bloody, another girl sprawled on the floor, far beyond any help and oh God…Janice. Poor Janice. The mere thought of what Millet had done to his own wife caused bile to raise in her throat.

Drawing in a deep breath and hoping Raphael wouldn't see how shaken she really was, Angela looked up and stared straight into his eyes. She was tough. She was a cop. She had to remember that.

"What I found was enough to put the guy away for life. I called for backup immediately…told them to send someone over to Millet's home and bring him in for questioning immediately. One of the guy's responding to the call out to the lake cabin was Matt."

Realizing for the first time since Raphael had sat her down that Matt was still in the room with them, Angela looked around the red-masked turtle at her thankfully still unconscious husband. "How hard did you hit him?"

"Huh?" Raphael turned, following her gaze. "Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be out for a while. Keep goin'."

"Alright." Pulling her attention away from Matt, she put it back on the story. "Matt wasn't exactly thrilled to see me. He was even less thrilled that I was working his case. He didn't say anything but I could tell he was. When we went back to the precinct, the chief called us into his office to give a report. I had to finish up the paper work so Matt went ahead without me and when I walked into the chief's office Matt was explaining how he had found the cabin and sent me out to look around. Of course, I had expected him to try something like that. He never knew every crucial detail in any of his cases and I usually did so he would bring me with him when making reports and have me fill in the blanks for him."

Angela realized right then just how pathetic she must sound. It was an embarrassment, admitting out loud how she constantly covered her husband's ass and allowed him to take credit for her achievements. She had been such a fool. And she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"So you just let the jerk off you married use you like that?" Raphael asked in disbelief. "No offense lady but that's not exactly one of the smartest things to do."

Angela's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Neither is sitting on my couch talking to a giant turtle that just broke into my apartment and beat the crap out of said jerk off I married," she pointed out, imitating his distasteful sneer on the word married. "And I didn't let him get away with it that time."

"Yeah? What'd ya do?"

"When he turned to me for help, I called him a liar. The chief asked him to leave and then I told him what really happened."

"That was today?"

"No," Angela shook her head slowly. "That was yesterday. Nothing happened yesterday. The chief had me question Millet, see if he had anymore statements to make before we booked him. When I got home it was pretty late and Matt was out with some guys from work. I was asleep when he got home and he was gone in the morning when I woke up."

"So, what set the guy off then?"

"I was promoted."

Raphael's jaw dropped a little at that. "Come again?"

"I was promoted to the special tasks division, something Matt had been working at for years. Apparently the chief knew about how I would constantly cover for Matt before I came out and told him. He sent me home early after giving me the news and Matt was out on patrol so I wasn't able to tell him about it. He found out though."

Angela shut her eyes against a sudden rush of rage and pain. It had been so easy to forget about what happened when she was talking about something else. Closing her eyes had been a bad idea though. The minute she did, every horrifying second of her confrontation with Matt came rushing back.

_She was sitting on the couch, enjoying the muggy evening breeze blowing through the open balcony door and sipping a celebratory whisky diet as she paged through an Entertainment Weekly. Harry Connick Jr. played softly in the background, the jazzy smooth notes traveling with the breeze. At the time, it was the perfect ending to what had been undoubtedly the best day of her entire career. Then Matt had come home._

_Every self assurance she'd repeated over and over again to herself that Matt would be okay with the news vanished when the front door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the walls. She hadn't had the time to think, much less react before he was on her._

_"What are you doing?" she cried as he wrapped a beefy hand around her neck and yanked her off the couch. Her magazine fluttered to the floor, quickly followed and soaked by her drink._

_"Who the hell do you think you are?" Matt screamed, tightening his hold on her neck._

_Cold, paralyzing fear swept through Angela. "Matt…please…" she gasped pitifully._

_He paid no attention to her plea. Instead, he threw her against the wall as if she were little more than a stuffed rag doll. Her head cracked against the dry wall, followed by the rest of her body; then she fell to the floor in a heap, trying to bite back a pained whimper._

_"Think you're pretty smart, don't ya Angie? Takin' over my case…getting my promotion." Matt walked slowly over to where she lay as he talked. He stopped beside her, reached down, grabbed a fistful of her hair and started to drag her across the floor by it. "You made me look like a fucking joke at the office!"_

_"Good," she yelled, finally growing a back bone. "Better you than me!"_

_She stamped her foot down on his instep then, as he yelped in pain, momentarily distracted, she jerked her knee up, aiming for his groin._

_Matt's hand came down, stopping her knee inches from impact. Angela's disappointment was short lived, being taken over by pain that stemmed from the kneecap Matt seemed intent on ripping out. He relented only to throw her into an end table. Her hip slammed against the corner and Angela couldn't stop the gasp of pain that tore from her throat. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her hip as hot tears blinded her._

_"You're a selfish bitch, you know that Angie?" Matt said from somewhere above her._

_Angie clenched her jaw; willed the tears to stop. "Better a selfish bitch than an incompetent kiss ass," she growled and waited for the next blow._

_She didn't have to wait long. Matt's foot sailed into her stomach, driving the breath from her and sending her back into the end table. She had barely enough time to even register pain before he attacked her again, this time using his fists._

_Angela jerked to the side, narrowly missing a blow aimed for her face. His fist grazed her shoulder instead, doing no actual harm to her but making Matt stumble forward as he lost his balance and giving her the perfect opportunity to make a run for the front door. Screw the shoes, screw her cell phone. She needed to get the hell out of there now before Matt ended up killing her._

_"Get the fuck back here!"_

_Angela screamed her denial when he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back around. "You're not goin' anywhere Angie. Not now…not ever," he vowed, driving his fist into her jaw._

_It was amazing that the bone didn't shatter from the force of the blow and even more amazing that she wasn't knocked out by it._

_'The next one will,' she thought. 'The next one will put me out…and then he'll kill me.'_

_But there hadn't been a next blow. Not thrown at her anyway. She'd looked up…and there he was. Raphael._

She looked up at him now. He was watching her expectantly, waiting for more. She couldn't give it to him though. Rage was boiling up inside of her. It was out of control, choking her and making rational thinking impossible. She felt like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

"You saw how he handled it," she finally managed to say, although her voice sounded strained and foreign to her.

Raphael nodded slowly. "A bit of it, yeah."

"Well…that's all I have to tell then. I'm going to get some more water."

She stood, putting a great deal of effort into keeping a straight face. Her leg and hip were burning painfully and that only fueled her anger. "Can I get you something?" she asked politely.

His gaze turned suspicious, dark eyes narrowing slightly. "No thanks."

Nodding, Angela picked up her empty glass sitting on the coffee table and began the agonizing task of walking to the kitchen. If Raphael noticed anything wrong with the way she was moving, he didn't say. He didn't attempt to help her either and she was grateful for that. He would have just gotten in the way.

Angela flipped on the kitchen light; then walked gingerly over to the sink on the opposite side. The glass was set on the beige Formica counter top beside the sink. It wasn't filled. It wasn't Angela's intention to do so. She turned away from the sink, walking to the right where a long counter and row of cupboards lined the wall. There was a small hand gun strapped there, courtesy of Matt himself who believe it was mandatory to have a firearm in every room of the house.

Removing the gun from its holster, Angela loaded it with a clip found in one of the small drawers. All the while she thought about how Matt, her _husband_ had tried to kill her and how their "marriage" had been such a joke from the very beginning. God, she was such a fool, giving in to the jerk and becoming wife because he'd saved her ass once and kept her from losing her job. Stupid, naïve Angie, taking what she thought was the easy way out. Well, she was done being manipulated and used by her husband. He'd tried to kill her, he'd wanted to. She'd seen it in his eyes. It was only logical that she return the favor. Where he failed though, she would succeed.

Angela jerked the hammer back and an unnatural calm swept over her. It couldn't be this easy, could it? She felt so in control right now, so sure of what she was doing. And it should have felt horrible. She was about to take another person's life. It wasn't normal that she felt no remorse for that.

_Maybe you would if your loving husband had thought twice before attacking you._

Her rage was a living thing within her now, with its own thoughts, its own voice and a startling hold on her. What it said, or hissed rather, made sense. As ugly and hateful as it was, it made sense. God help her, she was going to commit murder.

_So was he, Angie girl. If it weren't for that turtle guy, you'd be just as dead as poor Matt's about to be. Besides, you can't even call yourself a wife. You're more like a personal little servant. Do you realize how sickening that is? How degrading? The man hasn't even slept with you! Not once! Makes you wonder if he's getting his kicks elsewhere. Maybe that red-head down in forensics. Odd, how he always finds excuses to visit her._

Angela's self control snapped and like a flame to lighter fluid, the fury took over. All she saw now was red and the image of Matt wrapping that thick hand around her throat. Every move she made she was hardly aware of.

_Almost there Angie girl. It's almost over. Just raise your arm…that's it. Finger on the trigger…nice and easy. There ya go. Now…pull._

"Whoa! Hold it Angela!"

Raphael's arm circled her waist as he grabbed the hand holding the gun and pulled it down. "What the hell are ya doin'?"

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing?" she shouted back, attempting to jerk her wrist out of his hand. "I'm going to kill the bastard!"

"Oh, no you're not."

"Yes I am! Now let me go!"

"Not until you explain why you wanna kill the guy. Damn it Angela, you're a cop! You know what happens to people who pull shit like this!"

She stopped trying to pull free and brought her face close to his, glaring at him through a sheen of scalding, angry tears. "Yes, I do. And I…don't…care."

"Why?"

"Because he deserves it! He doesn't love me, he used me, he probably had an affair and in case you hadn't noticed, he tried to do the same damn thing to me! Now let me go!!"

Raphael shook his head slowly back and forth. "Sorry Ang."

She opened her mouth, prepared to give him hell and gasped in pain as Raphael squeezed hard against the sides of her wrist. Her fingers loosened and the gun dropped, clattering loudly against the floor.

Angela hung her head. Defeated again. She couldn't seem to win at all tonight.

"Damn you," she whispered harshly.

"Damn me all you want, babe. I just stopped you from making a huge mistake." Raphael released her wrist; then gripped her shoulders. "Think about what you're doin' Ang. Quit lettin' your anger control you and think! You go through with what you were plannin' to do and you'll end up regretting it. Trust me on this one."

Angela raised her head. Tears stained her cheeks, her bright blue eyes filled with so much pain and they stared right at him, burning into his soul. "I hardly know you."

"Well…you've gotta be able to trust someone."

"You don't understand Raphael. I'm trapped, okay? Trapped! There's nothing I can do! He's got the connections; he's got the upper hand. It's my word against his and I can tell you right now that no one's going to believe me."

"Alright!" Raphael dropped his head, shook it a few times and said a little lower, "alright."

When he lifted his head again, Angela was surprised to see that he was grinning. "Listen…no more tears. We're going to get you out of this, okay? We are. It's gonna be tricky, but it'll happen and when you're over what's happened here tonight…weeks or months from now, you're gonna tell me how you got stuck in this mess, okay?"

Angela blinked in disbelief. Weeks or months from now? "What, you…you want to be friends?"

"Yeah," He said, his grin widening. "When you're not freaking out, you seem pretty okay. But as a friend, I need you to trust me, okay?"

All she could do was nod. Now this really had turned into the strangest night of her life.

"Do you have anywhere you can stay? Your parents? Maybe a friends place?"

"My old apartment. I moved out when I married Matt but I think Kit's still trying to find a roommate. She'd probably let me stay."

"Alright. Why don't you give her a call, pack some stuff while you're at it, and I'll take care of your…husband."

Angela moved to obey without making a single argument and it didn't strike her as odd that she did so until she reached her bedroom and sat down on the queen sized bed she and Matt would no longer be sharing. What was she doing? It was the middle of the night and she was getting ready to make a very large, life altering change because the nice turtle man in her living room who was now "taking care of her (insert disgusted sneer here) husband" told her to trust him. The only thing more crazy than that…was that she wanted to. And she felt like she should. He'd saved her, he'd offered her friendship which was something she was seriously lacking in her life and even better…he'd offered to help her find a way out. All were pretty good reasons to invest a little trust in the guy. But…he wasn't a guy. He was a mutant and a stranger.

Sighing, Angela doubled over and buried her face in her hands. "I'm gonna argue this into the damn ground. Hell, it's already getting old."

She sat up, dragging her hands down her face. Her gaze immediately fell to a handful of lose change lying scattered beside the alarm clock on the bedside table-a few quarters, two dimes and a ton of pennies. She stared at it for a long time.

"Aw, what the hell."

Picking up a penny, she turned it in her fingers and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Leaving her choices up to fate wasn't something she did very often. Mostly because she'd spend her entire childhood and a good chunk of her adolescence watching her mom put too much stock in trusting fate to make her choices for her and the only time it hadn't let her down was when she had met Angela's ever practical, patient and understanding step-father. He'd been the result of a penny tossed in a well or at least that was the romantic story her mom stuck to.

"Well…what could it hurt?" She murmured to herself. "Flip the coin or sit here arguing with myself."

The penny wasn't new but still had a coppery gleam. And it was dated the year she moved to New York to join the force. That had to be a good sign.

"Okay, heads, I trust him. Tails, I don't."

She flipped the coin before she could talk herself out of it, caught it in her left hand, slapped it onto her right; then slowly lifted her hand to reveal fates decision.

Heads…she trusted him.

Without wasting another second, she pocketed the penny, grabbed the cordless phone from the bedside table and dialed Kit's number as she crossed the room to the closet. Within seconds, she had a place to stay, two duffle bags loaded with clothing and other personal necessities, and a little over six hundred dollars from Matt's personal stash. She carried the two suitcases out to the living room and when she didn't see Matt or Raphael right away, peaked around the archway into the dining room. Raphael was sitting at the table, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. Matt, still unconscious, was tied securely to one of the dining room chairs that had been set against the wall across from Raphael. It was no small feat and Angela was impressed. Apparently her green hero was much stronger than she had thought at first.

A brief grin passed over her face when she saw that part of Matt's binds consisted of his own hand cuffs. _Nice touch, Raphael_.

Setting down her bags, she went to the closet in the entry way.

"Got everything?" Raphael asked.

"Almost," she answered as she slid on one of her vest-holsters. She pulled her standard issue hand gun from the top shelf, made sure it was unloaded, the safety on and tucked it in the holster at her side.

"We're not gonna have to go through that whole 'don't kill him' thing again, are we?"

Angela lifted her head slowly, not surprised to see Raphael standing in front of her, leaning against the wall. He was keeping a close eye on her and she could understand that. If she was dealing with a person who'd just acted the way she'd been for the last few hours, she'd be watching them too. His suspicion still riled her a little, regardless.

"I work in the morning. The guns kind of a part of the uniform," she explained, pulling a navy blue coat with the letters NYPD embroidered across the back from its hanger and putting it on. "And it's not loaded so quit looking at me like that."

Raphael raised his hands in front of him. "Yes, ma'am."

The use of the word 'ma'am' caught her off guard and she was returning his grin before she could stop herself. "Smart ass."

He just chuckled as if he'd been called that many times before. "So, what do ya want to do with him?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Matt.  
Angela stared at him for a moment, wondering what she had been thinking when she agreed to marry him. He was hardly what you'd call an attractive man. Especially right now with a busted lip, two progressively worsening black eyes and what looked like (or so she hoped) a broken nose.

"I really don't know," she murmured softly, walking into the dining room, making sure there was plenty of space between her and her husband. "I'd love it if I could just erase all of his memories and knowledge of me."

Raphael came up beside her, his eyes narrowed in thought instead of anger. Angela thought it was a nice change. He was much easier to be around when he didn't look so hostile. "Well, we might not be able to do that but I think…yup, I've got an idea. My brother Donnie would be a lot better at this but," he paused, an expression of sadness passing briefly over his face. It was gone in less than a second and his cocky, self-assured grin was back in place. "I'm sure we could pull it off."

"What are you talking about? Pull what-?"

Matt's pained moan cut her off and she gasped, unconsciously jerking away from him.

Raphael stopped her, grabbing her shoulders and holding her in place. "Don't you go all panicky on me again, babe," he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on Matt. "That's the last thing we need."

"I'm sorry. I won't. I just…how tight did you tie those knots?"

"He's not goin' anywhere, Ang. Just chill out, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Okay."

"Are ya?" Raphael asked skeptically.

She pushed back her shoulders and set her jaw, which was starting to sting again. She would have to remember to grab that aspirin before they left. "Yes, I am. So, what's the plan?"

Matt groaned again, his eyes fluttering open.

"No time. Just go along with it," Raphael whispered, then raised his voice and said, "So, with that chip we put in your husband, we'll be able to track him within a fifteen hundred mile radius. We'll also be able to listen in on all conversations so if he's up to anything, not only will you have plenty of warning, but if it's pretty serious, we'll be able to track him down and…well, kill him if necessary."

Angela's jaw almost dropped. The guy was brilliant! "What if he gets a CAT scan or makes an attempt to have it surgically removed?" she asked, aware that Matt was now watching them and hearing every word.

Raphael shook his head. "Untraceable. It has its own kind of…cloaking device. Besides, if he tried to make an appointment or even get close to a hospital, we'd know about it."

"What the hell did you do to me?!" Matt screamed, rocking his chair as he pulled against his bonds. "You fuckin' bastard! I'll kill ya. I'll kill you both!"

"Well, hey Mr. Rhyerson. Glad to see you're with us again."

"Screw you! What the hell are you, anyway? Some kind of alien?"

"Yeah, sure," Raphael replied with a shrug.

Matt visibly paled. "What the hell did you do to me?" he asked again, this time in a voice that shook with fear.

Raphael turned to Angela. "You want to explain it to him?"

Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded; then moved away from Raphael and towards Matt. He glared at her, his mouth twisting into an ugly sneer. "You stupid bitch. Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you when I get free? It's gonna make that beating you just took look like child's play."

"You even try to touch her, I'll trigger that little chip we put in ya and give you the world's worst heart attack. That is, if I don't beat the ever lovin' shit outta ya first," Raphael said. His voice was low and menacing and sent a chill up Angela's spine. It was effective though. Matt immediately shut up and lost the tough guy glare.

Pulling up a chair, Angela set it down in front of Matt and well out of kicking distance. "I'm sure you over heard us, Matt," she stated, singing into the chair and tossing her head a little in hopes of looking nonchalant. He would probably see right through it to her fear though. She had never been a strong actress.

_So latch onto that anger girl. Let it help you._

"You've been out for quite some time. Long enough for us to install a chip in you that would ensure a safe and care free life for me. You see, Raphael here…whom I was also having an affair with, incase you'd like to know how it is exactly that I know him, has a brother and for years, he's been working on this remarkable tracking devise with so many different capabilities. It's amazing really. The only problem was they never had a willing subject to implant the device in. That's where you come in, hun.

"You see, I thought you were working late tonight so I invited Raphael over for a little fun. But you came home early, didn't you?" As she continued, her voice grew stronger as did her confidence. He was going to buy it and she was going to be free of him.

"You came home and you pulled that crap. So I figured any man who's got the balls to try and kill me off deserves to be volunteered for a little science experiment."

"You didn't!"

"I did."

"I don't buy it. How the hell would you have managed something like that?"

Angela immediately panicked. She hadn't thought about that not-so-tiny detail. Then she remembered a few years back when she'd had an operation. She smiled slowly, feeling very Grinch-like. "Oh, it was a pretty simple procedure. Kind of like…having your appendix taken out. The chips really small, you see."

"Damn it!" Matt shouted. The hand cuffs clinked loudly as he jerked his hands apart. "Man, I had no idea you were such a vindictive tramp!"

"Yeah, well maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to kill me or before you tried to take credit for my work. Or, better yet…before you started banging little Ms. Fake Tits down in forensics."

Angela didn't realize she'd risen out of her chair during her bitter diatribe until she felt a hand firmly grasp her shoulder. She knew Raphael was silently telling her to calm down. Reaching up, she laid a hand over his, partly to play out the self-appointed roll of mistress, but mostly because she desperately needed his strength right now.

Matt stared at her, his glare hard and accusing. He seemed to be trying to figure out if she was lying or not.

_Please buy it_, she thought. _Buy it hook, line and sinker, you bastard. _

She held her breath, waiting for him to speak, gripping Raphael's hand tightly.

"Just get this fuckin' thing out of me, Angie," he finally said through his clenched teeth.

It took everything she had not to breathe a sigh of relief and keep a straight face. She was going free!

"Well, we're not takin' it out yet, Mr. Rehyerson. Not until we make some kind of agreement here," Raphael said.

"Are you kidding me? I ain't makin' any kind of agreement with some freak alien!"

Taking the seat Angela had vacated, Raphael pulled a small, shell shaped object from his jeans pocket and pressed a button on the side that caused it to split down the middle and slide open. From Angela's vantage point, she could easily see that it was some kind of cellular phone. But Matt didn't know that.

"You must really want that heart attack, huh?"

Matt eyed the phone warily. "What kind of agreement?"

Raphael grinned, relaxing a little in the chair and looking up at Angela. "Name your terms, babe."

She stood silent for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. She wasn't though. She knew exactly what she wanted from the man. They were things she had wanted for a while now, things she had thought about when laying along in bed at night when Matt was supposedly working late.

"I'm going to file for a divorce, Matt. While I'm doing that, I want you to put in for a transfer to Chicago. Your mom lives there and I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have you closer to home. When you get the papers, sign them…send them in. We're not going to court with this. You'll go your way, I'll go mine and once this is all settled, we'll get that little chip taken out."

"Until then, we'll be keepin' an eye on ya to make sure you leave Angela alone," Raphael added.

"Fine!" Matt spat out.

"And you breathe a word of this to anyone…we'll know about it."

"I won't. Shit…you've got a deal, alight? Now get the hell out!"

Raphael stood, putting his phone back in his jeans pocket he turned to Angela. "Nothing else?"

"I want you somewhere else this weekend so I can pick up all of my things," she told Matt.

"You gonna have your little alien boyfriend help you?" Matt snarled, glaring hatefully at her.

"Yes."

"Man, I wish I would have broken your damn jaw."

What happened next happened so fast that Angela was sure she would have missed it if she had blinked. Raphael closed the distance between him and Matt in one quick stride and drove his fist into the large man's face. The force of the blow caused his chair to rock back, dangerously teetering on its back legs. Matt's eyes rolled back as the chair came forward and he was out again.

Snapping her mouth shut, Angela looked at Raphael, arching a brow and favoring him with a tired grin.

He grinned back shamelessly and shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, it's gonna be a lot easier to untie the guy when he's out cold."

Well, she really couldn't argue with that.

They worked together to untie Matt and lay him on the ground, then hand cuffed his hands behind his back. Angela tossed the keys onto the floor a few feet away from him. She had no doubt that Matt would be able to get the hand cuffs off once he was able to get to the keys, but he would hit trouble when trying to maneuver that heavy bulk of his. If he woke up any time soon, it would take him a while to get free and by then, they'd be long gone.

"Alright," Raphael said, hefting the larger of her duffle bags and slinging the strap over his shoulder. "Let's get the hell out of here before big and stupid wakes up."

Grabbing her purse and the other bag, Angela followed Raphael out. At the front door to the apartment she would never again call home, she reached forward and tugged the hood of Raphael's sweatshirt over his head. "Don't want to give away your secret identity, Super Turtle."

He glanced back at her and she could just make out that cocky grin of his through the shadows the hood cast over his face. "Cute. And thanks."

They left the apartments, went down three flights of stairs and exited through the back door that led into a cramped alley serving as a parking lot to residents of the building. Angela led the way over to a forest green jeep, digging in her purse for the keys. She was thinking about asking Raphael if he wanted to ride with her. Would it be strange though, to ask the guy for more? He'd already done a lot more for her than anyone she knew would do. It seemed selfish to ask him to do more, but she was reluctant to leave his side.

"Did you want me to come with ya?" he asked as if he was reading her mind.

She smiled gratefully. "If it's not too much to ask?"

"Nah, it's not. I'd feel better knowin' ya got to your friends place safely. Here, I'll put your bag in back."

The jeep was old, a two door with a black vinyl top and a hatch back. As Raphael stowed the bags in back, Angela climbed in and started cleaning off the passenger seat, wedging a slim CD case between the seat and consul, tossing a half full bottle of pop in the back and stashing her cigarettes in the glove box. Raphael got in a second later and immediately buckled his seatbelt. Angela thought it was more of a reflex than a conscious effort but she still smiled. Super Turtle practiced seatbelt safety. It was kind of cute. She wondered briefly what he might have looked like as a child, learning from that Splinter guy how to fasten his seatbelt.

"So, upholder of the law, Agent Rehyeron's a smoker, huh?" Raphael asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Angela grimaced. Damn, she hated how that smell clung to everything. "Everyone has their vices," she muttered in way of an excuse, sticking the key in the ignition and starting her jeep.

"So, you won't mind if I do then?"

Angela paused in putting the jeep into gear and looked over at her passenger, surprised to see him pulling a pack of cigarettes from the pouch of his sweatshirt. "Whoa, Super Turtle has a vice."

"One of many," he said with a grin. "Got a light?"

Angela reached over, opened the glove box and grabbed her cigarettes, handing the lighter to Raphael. When he was finished with it, he handed it back to her.

Windows rolled down and bad habits appeased, they drove across town to the apartments where Kat sat up waiting for her friend to return. It was a ten minute drive to a marginally better side of town. They listened to the radio the entire way-some oldies rock station. They silence was welcomed and comfortable; a far cry from the shouting and crying that had gone on earlier.

At a stout brick apartment complex, Angela pulled into the parking lot and smiled when she saw Kit's garage open and vacant. How the girl was able to tell Angela needed a hiding place, she would never know.

She pulled in and parked, got out after Raphael, then went around to the back. She didn't need to ask for his help with carrying her things. He only handed her one, carrying the other himself. Their stop was on the third floor, first door to the right, set apart from the rest by a colorful burst of flowers over a sign that said, "God Bless this apartment."

Angela unlocked the door with the key she still had, something Kit had insisted she keep in case of emergency.

"If you want to wait here for a sec, I'll walk you out," she offered, taking her bag from Raphael.

"Sure," he said, sounding amused. "I'll wait."

Going inside, Angela held the door open with her foot and dropped her bags beside the wall. Kit was sitting at her small dining room table to the left, a green mug of what Angela guessed was tea clasped between her hands.

"Hey," she greeted conversationally. "Honeymoon over, I take it?"

Angela laughed. "Oh, yeah. I'll tell you all about it when I get back. Left my cell phone in the jeep."

"Okay."

She went back into the hallway, closing the door softly behind her and giving Raphael a tiny smile. She really was asking too much of him, she thought, heading out the way they'd come in with Raphael falling into step beside her. _Come with, help me, stay here; never leave my side_. Well, she hadn't said the last one aloud but part of her really wanted to. She was terrified of what would happen if Matt decided not to believe their wild story and came after her. Kit was pretty much her only friend in the city. He'd met her. He'd dropped Angela off at these apartments quite a few times before. Finding the little wife would be no problem at all.

Too soon, they were outside, just out of reach from the street lamps orange glow, facing each other in the shadows. Time to say goodbye.

Not wanting it to be over so soon, Angela clasped her hands together and looked down at them, thinking of ways to stall for time. Her wedding ring, two bands of thick silver and the biggest rock she'd ever laid eyes on, glinted dimly in the darkness. It had been in Matt's family for generations. Impulsively, she pulled it off her finger, reached over to grab Raphael's hand and placed the ring in his palm, closing his fingers around it.

"Just 'cuz I saved ya doesn't mean I'm gonna marry ya," he joked.

Angela shook her head. She wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment. "Take it. Pawn it off. It's pretty old so you should be able to get quite a bit for it and…it's the least I can do."

"Ang, I can't-."

"Yes, you can. I don't want it. Please…just take it, Raphael. I want-."

"Raph."

Her brows drew together in a frown. "What?"

"Raph," he repeated, grinning. "It's less of a mouthful."

"Oh." Angela watched him slip the ring into his pocket with a mixture of anxiety and relief. It was probably nestled comfortably next to his cell phone. Better there than with her.

"Well hey, I'd better take off," he said.

She nodded. "Yeah. I hope I didn't put you too far out of your way."

"Actually, home's not far. Couple blocks."

"Okay. Well…" her voice drifted off as she tried to think of something to say, the right words to express her gratitude. Instead, tears came.

"Shit," she muttered, swiping angrily at them. "I swear I'm not usually this emotional. It's just…I…" Her chin started to quiver, her throat closed painfully. Lord, she would probably be much better off giving into her sadness. Swallowing thickly, she walked up to Raphael and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. After a moment of hesitation, his arms circled her waist and the most amazing thing happened. She felt safe. Truly safe, like not one evil of this world or any other could touch her.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and dampening his sweatshirt. "Thank you so much."

"No problem, babe. I'm gonna check in on ya every now and then…make sure that Matt guy ain't botherin' ya, okay?"

But Matt would never be much of a problem. A year and a half later, before the paper work from the divorce even had a chance to clear, he was taken out-another unfortunate victim of the Shredder.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much to those of you have reviewed so far. Kris, I know you were reading this thing back when it was just a baby in the process of growing nearly three years ago. I may need your help with it when I start working on it again which…I need to do. Lol.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of TMNT. OC's appearing (Kit , Angela and Lalahni so far) do belong to me.

**Chapter Four**

Angela shook off the memory, trying to shake the sense of nostalgia that came with it. The latter wasn't as easy to get rid of. Lord, how she longed for those days. Even though they hadn't marked the happiest times of her life, they were a great deal better than what she faced now. No, that wasn't entirely true. There was that stretch of two years or so spent with Raph that was better than anything she could have hoped for. But then…

Angela clenched her hands into fists, greatly disappointed in herself.

"You're bound to get yourself killed if you just keep standing here and thinking about the past when you're supposed to be looking for the hothead," she muttered to herself, borrowing one of Michelangelo's many nicknames for his older brother.

Starting her bike, Angela shoved the kickstand back with her foot and set off to find Raphael, maneuvering around the bodies of his victims.

It took over an hour to find him, or rather to find where he was staying. What lead her there were the bike tracks, some old enough to nearly be worn away but several were days, even hours old. They were two specific brands-mismatched but unnoticeably so unless you were looking closely on the tracks, and you were an ex-cop. The treads were more spaced apart on one and although there could have been several people with incompatible bike tires, she knew the exact two brands on Raphael's bike.

The skids were in a wide arch, leading through an opening between two stretches of fence. The gate had been broken, torn from its metal track and tossed carelessly aside. A large, rusted chain wrapped around a wheel at the corner of the gate, keeping it attached to the main mechanical device.

After examining the tracks and staring at the gate for a while, contemplating how, exactly, she was going to go about approaching Raphael, she lifted her head, looking over a wide expanse of unmarked pavement to the warehouse and loading bay on the other side. Fifteen garages lined the wall. Three were open, two were occupied by long since abandoned trailers; the rest were closed and painted thickly with armature graffiti.

The one that caught her attention was the one with the single ramp leading into the open doorway.

Angela shook her head and grinned ruefully. "Man, is he ever cocky."

She trolled across the lot with her lights dimmed, still able to see plenty by the pale glow of the moonlight. Deciding against leaving her bike outside, she drove carefully up the ramp, wincing when she had to turn the throttle to keep from sliding backwards. Oh what the hell, if he was here he'd probably known he'd had company from the second she drove up to the open gateway and she couldn't just leave her bike outside. That would draw attention and that was the last thing she needed right now. An army of Foot Soldiers did not make for a very happy or agreeable mutant turtle. Especially when that mutant turtle was easy to set off.

Inside the warehouse it was dark and cavernous. Angela cut the engine immediately and the sound took its time fading away, bouncing off the walls and echoing through the empty space, then giving away to the distant drip-drop of a leaky pipe.

Flicking the switch for the headlight, Angela turned the handle bars slowly to the right and left, searching for anything to confirm that Raphael was here. This place spooked her, sent a tingle of apprehension skirting up her spine. It was like something out of a horror movie; the old haunted warehouse on Harbor Avenue where one hundred workers were found hung from the rafters by their insides…or something to that effect.

Her headlight swept over a huge, gruesome painting of a clown spread over a wall to her left and startled a gasp lodged itself in Angela's throat. Bozo grinned insanely at her, his head canted at an odd angle, oversized tongue lolling from the corner of his mouth.

A vicious shudder seized Angela as she quickly looked away. Man, did she ever hate clowns. If this was the place Raphael had decided to hide out in, that boy was going to get an ear full when she found him.

She turned her attention to the two occupied garages. One of the doors was wide open, a thin cable hanging on the backdrop of a dark and empty truck bed. The other one, however, was closed. Or almost closed. It rested a mere inch away from the floor. She couldn't resist smiling. He'd been so obvious and yet smart too. He'd put himself in a position where there was no way anyone could sneak up on him unless they wanted to make one hell of a racket in the process or sit and wait for Raphael to show himself, then try to take him off guard. Knowing Raph, he would probably know someone was there long before they knew if he was or not. He probably knew she was there, although Angela doubted he know it was her.

Dimming her headlight, Angela gave her eyes a full three minutes to adjust to the darkness, then slid off her bike and made her way on trembling legs over to the closed garage door. She didn't know what was worse, the creeps running through her from the sheer spookiness of the warehouse, or facing her ex for the first time in months.

_Pull it together, don't act surprised. Remember, you're just as stubborn as he is._

Drawing a deep breath, Angela bent down, grabbed the rubber padding that lined the bottom of the door and yanked it up, wincing as the rusty tracks grated and screeched in protest.

She hardly had them open again before a hand closed around her neck, jerked her into the truck and pushed her against the wall. The garage door was yanked shut again, throwing her and who she hoped was Raphael into complete darkness.

"I'd start prayin' for your life right now buddy. Though it aint gonna do you any good."

The tip of his sai grazing her neck nearly sent Angela into a blind panic. "Turn on…light," she choked out.

He hesitated, the removed his weapon from her neck. He loosened his grip but didn't release her. Light filled the narrow space a few seconds later, revealing a cramped living space with a large, worn bed, numerous unmarked boxes, a short threadbare couch, a red, stylish racing bike and one very shocked mutant turtle.

"Ang?!" he yelped, releasing her immediately. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Glaring at him as she rubbed her neck, a little irked that he hadn't even apologized for his rough treatment, she muttered. "Don't the letters N.Y.P.D mean anything to you?"

"You're an ex cop, Ang."

"Yes well," she straightened, "that doesn't mean I forgot how to do the job."

"Uh-huh."

Raphael slid his sai back into this belt, relaxed his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. Arrogant, self assured…lord, she had missed him.

"So, what are ya doin' here? You hunt me down for a reason?"

I've missed you; I've been worried about you. So has your brother. And Donatello showed up and he wants to see you.

It was everything she should have said, everything she was supposed to say. Instead, she found herself avoiding the truth and toying with him. Why? It had to be that attitude of his provoking her-the way he asked her what she was doing there as if he already knew.

Taking a step toward him, she replaced the frown with a small, secretive smile. "Oh…you know. I've been feeling kind of antsy lately and figured a good lay might calm me down a little. I was in the neighborhood, saw your tracks…and remembered how good it always was with you."

"And what? You though you'd get a quick fix from me?'

"Well…something like that." A few steps closed the space between them and she laid her hands on his elbows, slowly sliding them up his arms. "With the way things are going these days there's hardly a guarantee that I'd live long enough to enjoy a night of great sex and I didn't want it to be with some random. I wanted it to be with someone who'd make it amazing."

"Uh-huh. So what you're really sayin' here is that you're lookin' for something reliable because you're horny as hell…but also picky. Gosh Ang, as flattering as that is-."

"It be a lot more flattering if you wouldn't twist my words," she objected, fighting to sound put out when all she really wanted to do was chew him out, to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt her when he'd left seven months ago. "Come on Raph. You can't deny that the sex we had was always great."

"The best," he confirmed with a smug grin.

"I bet you still think about it too." She brushed her fingers against his neck as she pressed her lower body suggestively against his. "You ever got to sleep…dreaming about that night in the back of that movie theater when you had your hand up my skirt. There was no one else in the theater to hear me scream and you-."

Her reminiscing ended on a startled gasp as Raphael pushed her up against the cold steel wall and brought his mouth down hard on hers. The shock vanished immediately, shoved aside by desperation and desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clung to him, craving the feel of his hands on her body. She wanted him to the point of near insanity and she was positive he knew that-hopeful that he felt the same way.

Their actions became something she was hardly aware of-him moving his hands down her back, gripping her waist and lifting her as he spun them away from the wall, her wrapping her legs low around his waist, holding his face between her hands, blindly trying to control something she couldn't.

She made no protest when he carried her to the bed, not a single one when he tore her clothes off. He never asked her if she wanted it or if she was sure and when he took her it was rough, almost violent. It was all she needed to be certain that he'd wanted her as badly as she'd wanted him.

Hours later, when Angela could breathe normally and think again, she turned her head to the side and gazed at the sleeping mutant who lay beside her. It bothered her that he looked troubled in his sleep instead of calm and peaceful like he used to. She wanted to hold him and comfort him because she knew how badly he must be hurting. A guy who'd never once killed in his life didn't start doing so just for the hell of it.

Unfortunately, she wasn't sure she could play the roll of concerned girlfriend anymore. So much had changed in the seven months since Raphael and Leonardo's falling out. Raphael had changed, she knew she had. She was well aware of the bitterness and cynicism that she carried like a shield.

Dropping her gaze to the arm draped below her breasts that kept her anchored to the bed, Angela stared at the black and red tattoo that circled Raphael's muscular bicep. Waves with sharp peaks moved over his skin-red in the middle that bled into black.

Angela lifted her arm, catching a glimpse of the smaller replica of that tattoo that circled her own arm. Tears collecting in her eyes, she traced the edge of his tattoo with her finger.

She wished she could erase the past, stop the Shredder and have life return to normal, the way it had been before Hell had swallowed New York. She wished she could have Raphael back. But, even after what had just happened between them, she felt like he was still far out of reach.

Still tracing his tattoo, Angela closed her eyes and was soon asleep, dreaming of far better times.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! To whoever is still reading, thanks! Lol, I don't know if many are but I don't think I'm going to let that deter me from posting any of this. I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm pretty proud of it, so why not share, right? In this chapter there's a lot of Ang/Raph drama (yes folks, drama!) and even more explanation as to how they came to be. Everyone else gets their turn at some lovin' too so no worries there. I'm just a big Raph fan. Can ya tell?! No!? It's not GLARINGLY OBVIOUS?! Lol, I didn't think so. Anyways, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of TMNT. All OC's are property of myself.

**Chapter Five**

She was in the middle of applying a shell pink lip-gloss when a knock at the door announced Raphael's arrival. Flashing her reflection a quick grin, she went through the unnecessary pains of rearranging her hair; then rushed to answer the knocking that had now started to sound slightly irritated.

She grabbed the knob and jerked the door open, smiling at the mutant turtle on the other side.

"Whoa Ang, you look great," Raphael said appreciatively. "What's the occasion?"

Smiling, Angela looked down at the flared jeans and shimmering red satin tank she'd donned earlier. "You like? I've got a hot date tonight."

"Yeah? What do you need me for then?"

Angela ushered him in and closed the door. She was extremely grateful that he'd worn his usual disguise tonight-hooded sweatshirt and baggy jeans. It would make the evening go a lot more smoothly. "I need you, Raph, because you're my date."

He gave her a blank look. "Say what?"

"You," she flicked him lightly on the nose, smiling, "are my date. Come on Raph. Don't tell me you don't know what day it is."

He continued staring at her as if she were speaking another language.

Angela sighed, planting a fist on her hip. "We met one year ago today."

Still, she received nothing but that look of utter confusion.

"It's our anniversary, you dick!" she nearly shouted.

Raphael ducked away from her fist, laughing. "I know! I know. I'm just messin' with ya. So, you decided we're going out tonight, huh?"

"Yup! I figured dinner, movie, maybe that fair going on," Angela rattled off the options as she went to her room and plucked the light weight jacket she'd set aside from the bed. The temperature was supposed to drop below fifty tonight and she didn't want to spend the evening freezing her ass off. She wanted to show Raphael a great time and let him know just how much she appreciated his friendship. She also grabbed the brightly wrapped package that had been sitting beside her jacket, then left the room.

"Now, I don't want you to say I shouldn't have or anything like that, because-." Angela stopped talking and smiled, seeing the gift bag dangling back and forth enticingly from Raphael's finger.

"Happy anniversary," he said with a grin.

Laughing, she walked across the room to him. They exchanged gifts and tore into them eagerly, not worried about looking like greedy little children in front of each other. They'd been friends far too long and knew each other too well to be practicing restraint when it came to gift opening.

Angela's laughter doubled immediately upon seeing the little figurine lying on top of a fuzzy teal and navy scarf. The figurine was a green alien with bug eyes. A small computer chip had been supper glued into its hand. "Yay! My own little Raph alien!" she cried, pulling both items free and wrapping the scarf around her neck. "Thanks, hun."

"Not a problem. Thanks for the shirt," he said, holding up a maroon hooded sweatshirt with the shortened version of his name embroidered on the hood.

Angela grinned at him, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously. "Can't promise I won't end up borrowing it sometime."

"Borrowin'?" Raphael exclaimed as he switched his old, battered sweatshirt for the new one. "Last time I checked, they called that stealing."

He tossed the old sweatshirt at her, catching Angela in the face. Hiding her smile behind the fabric, she inhaled deeply of his unique scent, something she'd grown to love over the year. "Same difference."

She watched him admire the sweatshirt, pleased that he liked it, then her grin widened as he reached in the front pocket and a look of confusion crossed his face. It was replaced by shock when he pulled out a pair of new, glistening sais.

Angela continued to smile, lowering the sweatshirt. "The guy behind the counter said they were top quality...authentic. All that good stuff," she murmured.

He spun them experimentally, still staring at the weapons in disbelief. When they were still again, gripped lightly in his hands, he looked up at her. "Ang, I…I don't know what to say."

"Well, thank you works," she suggested.

"Nah. I don't think a thank you's gonna cut it for this one." Setting the weapons aside on a narrow end table beside the beige living room couch, Raphael went to Angela and hauled her into his arms. "Thanks babe. You're the greatest."

A warm, tingling sensation swept through Angela-a feeling she adamantly ignored. Things like that had been happening to her a lot lately, especially around Raphael. She didn't understand it, couldn't figure out why it kept happening, and therefore chalked it up to something that just didn't really matter-something that could easily be brushed aside which is exactly what she did. It was a little harder to do this time though. Odd, usually she had no problem disregarding this.

Confused and a little shaken, Angela pulled away, forcing a smile to her lips. "So, ready to go?"

"Yup."

Raphael switched his old pair of sais for the new ones, letting Angela tuck the older set safely away in her top dresser drawer. Then they left the apartment and took to the streets of New York on Raphael's bike. They went to a movie-an action flick they could both enjoy-then to their favorite secluded pizzeria to talk over a large pizza and a pitcher of beer. Then it was to the streets again, this time walking along one of the less popular strips the city had to offer.

They were passing by a tattoo parlor when Angela stopped, dropping her head back to stare up at the green and blue neon sign that blazed the words "NY Body Art."

"What are ya doin'?" Raphael asked, turning and walking back to where Angela stood after realizing that she was no longer beside him.

Angela nodded up, then looked at Raphael and grinned. "What do you think?"

He considered the sign warily. "I dunno…"

"Bull shit, you don't know. You were just talking about how you wanted one two weeks ago."

She could see him seriously thinking about it, wanting to do what she was suggesting.

"I'll get one too. Come on, my treat on the agreement that we get the same thing," she offered.

He made a face. "If you expect me to get something like best friends or some shit like that, no deal."

"Good lord, Raph. Nothing like that," she said, rolling her eyes. "We'll pick it out together. Something we both like."

Raphael stared at her for a minute, contemplating the idea as if he was really uncertain about it. She knew he wasn't, but waited it out anyway, miraculously refraining from making any noise or gesture of impatience.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'm game."

Hours later, they were back on the sidewalk, grinning down at the intricate array of blood red waves bordered by black that circled their upper left arms. The skin around the tatoo's was red and irritated and they really didn't care. They were fully immersed in the hazy excitement that came with getting a first tattoo, spur-of-the-moment style.

"Ooh, you look so tough, Raphie," Angela cooed, leaning against him and batting her eyelashes dramatically.

He grinned at her, halfheartedly shrugging her off. "Lay off me woman." Looking down at the tattoo again, rubbing at the irritated skin, his expression turned cynical. "Leo's gonna give me hell for this."

"Oh, blah." Angela made a face and wrapped her new scarf around her neck. It wasn't cold at all but she loved the feel of the soft, furry fabric against her skin. "He'll get over it."

"Yeah. Man, I bet Sarah will love it."

At the mention of the other woman's name, Angela's mood dulled considerably. Sarah was a younger girl, someone Raphael had met through a friend named Angel. Angela had only met her once and that had been enough for her. She was short, had brown hair streaked with hot pink, dressed…well hardly dressed in the shortest skirts or shorts she could find and ragtag t-shirts that were, more often than not, strategically cut across the chest and stomach. She was three years younger than Raphael, a refugee of the Purple Dragon's, and flirted shamelessly with the red masked turtle non-stop.

Sarah had seemed okay at first, aside from being a bit on the trashy side. Raphael had introduced them when Angela had come down to the lair for movie night a little over a month back and the girl had been incredibly sweet. That lasted all of ten minutes. Then she had learned more about Angela and her history with Raphael. After that it had been one snide comment after the other, slathered in honey sweet tones. She commented on everything from her shattered marriage to the fact that she was an "old broad" hanging around four younger mutant turtles. The only thing that had hurt worse than Sarah's constant smart remarks had been Raphael's indifference towards them. Since that night, Angela had done her best to avoid being around Sarah. And her best to avoid talking about her, which is why she kept her mouth shut now and opted for a well concealed roll of the eyes.

They started walking again, heading for nothing in particular. A comfortable, familiar silence fell between them. It was interrupted not even two minutes later by the incessant beeping for Raphael's cell phone.

Angela peaked over at the screen after he pulled it out of his pocket and sneered. Sarah. She didn't know what irritated her more-the younger woman calling on their special night or the fact that Raphael apparently had her programmed into his phone.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, taking a few more steps before stopping and turning to face Raphael.

He gave her an odd look, hesitated; then flipped his phone open in mid-ring. "Hey Sarah."

The girl practically squealed her greeting, even going as far as to call him Raphiekins. Angela was tempted to puke right there on the sidewalk. Lowering her gaze, she listened to the conversation and waited.

"I'm doin' pretty good. Yeah. Tonight? Actually, I'm hanging out with Angie right now. We just got tattoo's."

"You're hanging with that old lady again?!"

Clearly hearing the outraged shriek, Angela winced and immediately felt ridiculous for letting Sarah's words get to her. She caught Raphael's apologetic look, shrugged as if it were nothing, and turned away.

This night was supposed to have gone great-just her and her Super Turtle hanging out, having fun and remembering that fateful night that had brought them together. Sarah wasn't supposed to be part of it.

Angela heard Raphael mention possibly getting together later with Sarah when he was done with her and she lost it. As if she were just some two-bit hooker he'd picked up for the night. When he was done with her? Her anger boiled over, her thoughts ran in wild circles and disaster struck.

Somewhere between vicious thoughts of the younger woman suddenly labeled "the juvenile whore" and why she disliked her so much, the cold, hard truth behind her animosity was thrown into clarity. It wasn't just Sarah. It was Raphael. Actually, it was all Raphael. She was jealous because she was completely, irrevocably in love with Raphael.

Angela staggered back as if she'd been slapped and raised a hand to her throat. No…oh no, this couldn't be right! She loved Raphael? When the hell had that happened? And how?

Blind panic rapidly replaced her fear. She started feeling trapped, claustrophobic. Dropping the hand that had started to shake, she dug frantically through her purse for her apartment keys.

She couldn't be in love with Raphael. He was her friend and the only man she really trusted. Loving people had never done good things for her and after what had happened with Matt, she had no hope that it ever would. If she loved Raphael, she would lose him, simple as that. The friendship they had, one she valued more than anything, would be over. She couldn't handle that.

"Keys, keys, keys," she muttered, her voice trembling.

She finally found the cluttered ring, jerked it free, almost spilling the contents of her purse in the process, then made a run for it.

"I've got to go. I'll talk to you later," she said to Raphael as she quickly passed him.

"Ang…hang on Sarah." He pulled the phone away from his ear and put his hand over the mouth piece. "Ang, wait."

"I really have to go," she called back to him. "Sorry. I had a great time though. Bye Raph!"

She lifted her hand to hail a cab, continuing to walk down the sidewalk at a brisk pace. She didn't know if he was following her and she didn't dare look. Hopefully he was still talking to Sarah.

_You don't mean that. You want him to hang up on her and come to you._

It was true. That's exactly what she wanted. Stifling a hysterical moan as a cab pulled up, Angela jumped into the car, quickly rambling off her address. The driver must have heard the quaver in her tone because he wasted no time pulling away from the curb and speeding into traffic.

When they reached her apartment, she tossed money to the driver, clamored out and ran inside. She didn't stop running until she was on the other side of her apartment door, leaning against it and breathing heavily.

It had occurred to her several times on the cab ride home that she was being completely crazy about this whole thing. She could have stayed with Raphael, acted like the adult she was and finished out a great evening, _then_ gone home to wallow in her self-pity. But no-she'd decided to run.

_Way to keep your cool, Ang._

Shaking her head in self-disgust, she pushed away from the door and walked slowly to her room. She flipped on the light switch, turning on the two lamps on the bedside tables that flanked a queen sized bed draped in shades of mauve and forest green. Staring at the floor for several minutes, not exactly clear on what she was doing anymore and feeling very lost because of it, Angela tried to sort out this new onslaught of conflicting emotions.

Okay, so she was in love with Raphael-poor, unsuspecting, probably already involved with juvenile whore Raphael. Now…what to do about it? She couldn't ignore him. She hardly went two days without seeing him as it was. And they called each other every other night at least. To say she'd be raising his suspicions if she stopped seeing him and calling him as much would be a major understatement.

"Damn it," she whispered miserably, trudging over to the bed and sinking down on the edge.

Without realizing she was doing so, she reached over and pulled Raphael's older sweatshirt into her lap. She stared at it blankly, trying to remember how many times she'd stolen it from him, how many times she'd fallen asleep with his scent wrapped around her. Burying her face in the sweatshirt, Angela released a shaky sigh and started crying silently.

"Mind telling me why you're soakin' my shirt?"

Although his tone was soft, Angela still jumped, jerking to attention and staring slack jawed at the mutant turtle standing in her doorway. "How did you get in?"

Raphael smirked, pushing off the doorjamb. "Door was unlocked," he explained, crossing the floor to her. "Thought we talked about that one Agent Rehyerson?"

"Forgot," Angela said, smiling back despite her current mood.

He knelt in front of her, resting his forearms on her thighs. It was something he'd done several times throughout the course of their friendship and never had she been affected by it before. Now, her entire body reacted to his touch. Heat pooled deep in her stomach and slowly worked its way out until it became an ache of awareness. She trembled. Her throat worked convulsively to keep her sobs at bay.

"What wrong, Angie?"

Her smile faltered. "Nothing. I just wasn't feeling good."

Raphael shook his head. "How you get those guys you interrogate to believe you've got evidence against them is beyond me. Come on, what's wrong?"

Angela dropped her head, trying to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. "You really don't want to know."

"Sure I do. This isn't about Sarah, is it? Because I know you're and her aint exactly best friends."

While her mind screamed yes, Angela shook her head quickly. "No, no…it's not."

"Angela."

She winced at the note of warning in his voice. "Not entirely."

"Babe, you've got to talk to me. I can't help ya if you won't."

"What makes you think you can help me anyway?"

"When haven't I come through for you?"

Angela bit her bottom lip and screwed her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. "Never," she whispered.

"Exactly." He cupped the side of her face in his hand, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad."

"Raph…please…"

She was losing it. She wished he would leave so that she wouldn't be in such immense danger of destroying what they had.

"It's not Matt, is it? If that ass hole-."

"No! No…it's not Matt."

"What is it then? All this can't be because of Sarah. I know she's been a bitch to ya and I'm sorry I haven't been sayin' anything about it. If that's what brought this on, I'll call her right now….crud, now you're really cryin'."

Angela shook her head again, her control slipping. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong."

The desperation in his voice finally broke her. She looked up into his pleading, dark eyes and whispered brokenly, "I'm in love with you, Raph."

He stared at her unblinking for what felt like the longest three minutes of her life, then abruptly stood and took a few steps away from her. Instinctively, she followed.

"I'm so sorry," she said to his back. Her tears spilled over and she hardly noticed them. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't even know how it did. Please, can we just forget I said that? Pretend it never happened, okay?"

Raphael turned to face her and she wanted nothing more than to scream her despair. His expression was hard, completely unreadable. "No," he stated evenly.

Angela's heart plummeted. "No?"

"There's no way I'm forgettin' you said that."

In three quick strides he was across the room and pulling Angela into his arms. Her breath caught in her throat, she stared at him wide-eyed, feeling as if she'd just fallen into a dream. She murmured his name uncertainly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Been waitin' months for you to get on the same page as me, Ang," he said softly, grinning at her stunned expression.

"B-but…Sarah," she stammered.

"Nothin' there. She knew I had a thing for ya. Where do you think all those bitchy little comments were comin' from?"

Angela released a watery laugh and shrugged her shoulders. "I just…thought she was being bitchy."

Raphael chuckled. "Jealous," he said, lifting a hand and brushing his fingertips over the curve of her jaw. "Not bitchy."

Angela swallowed hard. That ache of awareness started to become more of a throbbing sensation that made it difficult to breath. "I think we're about to cross a really big line here, Raph."

"Damn right, we are."

They stared at each other a moment longer, letting the anticipation build. Then he claimed her mouth in a kiss that set fire to her blood.

And it had been that way from that point on. They'd been inseparable, their passion unstoppable and their love for each other impenetrable. Or at least that's what Angela had thought. Now, lying next to him, staring at their matching tattoos with the pain of his recent abandonment still fresh on her heart, she wasn't sure what to call what they had anymore. It was still love, but it was shattered and cast carelessly to the wayside. And she had no idea if the pieces could be put back together.

Sitting up, Angela swiped angrily at her tears and yanked her bra furiously off the footboard. She should have just come here, said her piece and left. Then she wouldn't feel like a used up tramp and she wouldn't feel like her emotions were choking her.

"What are you doing?"

Angela turned her face away from him, hiding the evidence of her heartbreak as she picked her discarded clothing up from the floor. "I'm leaving. Thought that was pretty obvious."

"Oh, I get it. Got what you wanted and now you're outta here, huh? Well, glad that I could be of service."

"That's not…you know what? It's not important. The reason I actually came here is because I'm the only one who can find you. Your brother's back."

He gave her an affronted look, like he couldn't believe she actually thought he'd care. "Why the hell would I care if Leo's back?"

She yanked her shirt out from under his foot. "Not Leo."

"Mikey never left. Ang, what-." Realization dawned slowly. So slowly that she nearly laughed at him. Instead, she replied slowly, carefully to keep her voice devoid of any emotion.

"Donnie's back. He showed up earlier tonight and he'd like to see you. If you don't want to, that's your deal. I'm just the messenger." She stood and yanked her jacket off a pile of boxes. They teetered dangerously; then settled back into place. "You want me to tell him anything?"

"No." He stood abruptly, crossing the floor and getting right up in her face. "I want you to tell me what the hell your problem is."

"Sorry hun. You gave up the right to know what my problems were when you left me without saying goodbye or even giving me a damn warning." She turned to leave and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. "What? What do you want Raph?!"

"For you to shut up and listen for a minute!" he yelled back. "Jeez, woman. I was gonna to come back."

Angela crossed her arms over her chest. "When?"

"I don't know. When I got some shit figured out. If ya hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly in the best of places right now."

Fear struck hard and deep as she watched his cool demeanor slip, being replaced by a look of hopelessness. "I would have helped you. You know I would have," she said softly.

Raphael's laugh was laced with cynicism and hollow. The sound frightened her almost as much as his sudden shift in attitude did. "Pretty sure I'm beyond help at this point. Haven't been able to stop killin' foot soldiers since I started and I just about took out a Purple Dragon today. He was just a kid and I almost killed him. I keep-," he paused to draw a shaky breath, "I keep comin' home with blood on my hands."

"Raph," Angela laced her fingers through his and pulled him close. Her other hand went to his face, fingers lightly caressing his cheek, "sweetie, this isn't home."

He nodded, closing his eyes and an involuntary shudder raked its way over his body. "I know."

His arms wrapped around her waist, safe and strong, and Angela was suddenly weak with relief. The tears she'd refused herself for months, the ones she'd so stubbornly brushed away so that he wouldn't see them, burst free like a torrential downpour, soaking her cheeks and his neck and shoulder as she buried her face against them.

"Man, I missed you," he said roughly, tightening his hold on her.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Whatever she would say would probably come out a mess anyway, so it was best not to try. And he understood that. He'd always understood that about her. "I still love you," she said when she finally could. "Even when I was furious with you, I still loved you."

Raph pulled back only far enough so that they could see each other's eyes. "I know. I love you too. And I'm sorry."

"You should be," she reprimanded with a grin that made it difficult to take the stern comment seriously. "You know we function much better together than we do apart."

He returned her grin easily. He was looking much more like the Raph she had fallen in love with and that was a huge relief. "I know. In some areas better than others," he said suggestively.

Angela's pulse leapt. She suddenly felt like they'd gone back in time to that night in her room when she'd told him how she really felt about him. She was nervous, jumpy with anticipation and yet so deliriously happy. She licked her lips slowly, thrilled by how his eyes followed the simple movement, hunger flaring to life in their depths. "I'm going to have to agree with you on that one."

"Yeah," he gave a tug on her waist, pressing her lower body intimately against his. "I bet you do."

Angela chuckled. "What does that even mean?"

He shrugged. And really, it didn't matter, because not even a second later he was kissing her as he pushed her slowly back to the bed. And this time, when he took her, there was no anger or sense of urgency. It was the way it was supposed to be


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles. God help them if I did, lol. All OC's however are property of me and those used to inspire them. **

**Chapter Six**

Lanni drummed her fingers impatiently on her leg. She'd been standing in the dark for nearly an hour now wrestling with her feelings of anxiety, disgust and pity. They alley provided enough shelter for her to spy on Leonardo without being spotted but not many places to sit, so she'd been subjected to standing and waiting, shooing away the occasional, scavenging rodent.

The noise from a door creaking open sounded form across the street and she stepped further back into the shadows. On the landing of a rundown townhouse stood Leonardo. He was talking quietly to a thin, oriental woman with straight black hair. The satin robe hanging from her slight frame was barely held together and slipped from her shoulders as she lifted one frail arm and ran her painted nails slowly up and down Leonardo's arm. The sight momentarily disgusted Lanni and she wasn't entirely sure why. She wasn't a judgmental person and being an assassin certainly didn't give her any right to sneer at the profession of prostitution. With a sigh, she fought back the emotion and focused on the task she'd been given.

Leonardo moved from the steps and into the darkness. His friend went back inside after glancing around to make sure no one had seen a mutant turtle leaving her house.

"Well, that was a pathetic attempt at protecting your lover," Lanni muttered as the door clicked shut. She slipped away from her hiding spot to follow Leonardo and let her sense take over. She could smell his scent lingering. She followed it as far as she dared. Scent wasn't something she relied heavily on when tracking. Especially when the scent was mingled with another, less pleasant perfume.

In the middle of a pitch black alley, she stopped and waited. There was no wind working against her but it wasn't working for her either. She closed her eyes and waited. Seconds later she heard the gravely sound of a foot shifting over pavement approximately a yard away to her right. She laughed softly and opened her eyes.

"If you think you can actually get the drop on me, you're sadly mistaken, Leonardo." She turned her head and looked into the darkness where she knew he was standing.

Light glinted dimly off his katana as he lowered it to his side. "Who are you?"

"The names Lalanni. I'm here on behalf of your brothers. Care to hear me out or did you just want to skip to the whole fighting thing? If you want to go that route, I don't suggest it. You're probably worn out after your little visit and lacking the stamina it would require to hold up against me."

Leonardo stepped out of hiding, glaring at her. "You've been following me for a while."

"Of course. You would know that."

His glare hardened further and fear fluttered briefly up her spine. Or at least she thought it was fear. She may have talked tough and she may have believed she had what it would take to stand up to this guy, but she hadn't taken his hostility into account and hostility is usually what made people unpredictable. She shrugged the thought off, reminding herself that he was just another job.

"We're not talking here. Follow me."

He turned and walked further into the alley, giving her little choice but to follow. "Arrogant prick," she muttered under her breath.

"I heard that. So what are you? Another vigilante come to fight a war that no one can win?"

"My, aren't we optimistic."

"There's no room for optimism in this city. Not anymore."

Lanni thought about that and found that she had no argument. He made a good point. Moving on. "I'm a paid assassin."

Leonardo came to a dead stop and whipped around to face her, his katana hissing free from its sheath with deadly speed. It stopped a mere inch from her throat. Lanni cut a mild look at the length of metal, then raised her eyes, meeting his searching glare. "Probably should have put a 'used to be' before that, hm?"

"What?"

"I _used_ to be a paid assassin." She touched the tip of her finger to the blade and gently pushed it away. "For the Chinese Government. Now, I'm just here to offer my assistance."

"For who?"

"My friends." She paused, watching for his reaction. "And your family."

There was a flicker of recognition, but nothing more. His blade made a sweep downward, singing through the air and passing centimeters from her arm. She was more amused than scared. People had threatened her with more than the brush of a sharp blade before.

"This way," he said, re-sheathing his weapon and turning. He continued to lead her through dark alley after dark alley. It occurred to her at one point that he was making a conscious effort to confuse her so that she wouldn't know where she was and therefore, wouldn't remember how to find him. It was a wasted effort. She had been an assassin once. She always knew where she was.

Finally he stopped on the run down stoop of a weather beaten brownstone. The outdoor light had been shattered and many of the first level windows reinforced with bars and thick blankets. Without inviting her, Leonardo went inside. Lanni scanned the alley quickly; then followed him in, closing the door tightly behind her. He was halfway down a flight of stairs when she turned. Rolling her eyes and, silently wishing she had been the one sent after Raphael, Lanni followed.

There was only one apartment, or what she assumed to be an apartment, on the basement floor. It had a heavy padlock on the door above the knob. Leonardo pulled a ring with a solitary key from his belt and used it to remove the padlock. He then opened the door, pushing it wide and stepped back, allowing her to enter first.

"You're not a very trusting turtle," she commented dryly as she passed him.

"Should I be?"

"No," her voice was softer this time with a hint of sadness. "I don't suppose you should."

His place was fastidiously neat; each surface dusted, books stacked in clean, straight piles, a single pillow and blanket folded and placed at the end of a simple brown couch. There was no T.V., just a radio tucked amongst the books of a small book case. There were no dishes in the sink of something that barely qualified for a kitchen. A single chair accompanied a small round table in the corner where the morning's paper sat looking lonesome without a cup of coffee or muffin to keep it company. A sharp "click" behind her threw dim light over the darkness but it did little to relieve the oppressiveness of the small apartment. The place was depressing and Lanni suddenly felt a deep sympathy for the mutant who had cut himself out of the world around him so completely-out of his family and out of the city he had once loved and defended.

"Would you like some tea?" he offered in a monotone voice.

"Sure. Thank you."

As he moved about in the kitchen, Lanni walked to the couch and sat down. There wasn't a single picture hanging on the wall. No trace of the family he had. And the one live thing, a tiny bonsai tree on the coffee table that should have breathed some life into Leonardo's "home" only seemed to alienate it further.

At the sound of the tea kettle whistling, Lanni slowly turned her head, surprised by how deep in her thoughts she had been. She studied Leonardo-his pensive expression, the natural grace with which he moved, the shifting of his muscles as he took mugs from the cupboard, filled them, and carried them over to where she sat. For a mutant, he really was quite attractive. He could stand to gain some weight though. Judging from Donatello and Michelangelo's height and muscular bulk, Leonardo should have looked about the same, if not larger. He looked malnourished or like he'd taken up an unhealthy addiction to meth.

"You're not using, are you?" she asked blatantly as he handed her a mug of steaming tea. The abruptness and straightforwardness of her question caused him to nearly pour its contents out on her. Arching one brow, she reached up and snagged the handle, balancing the mug and then taking it.

"Using?"

"Drugs, Leonardo. And for the record, that reaction pretty much told me you knew what I was talking about. Don't play clueless. We're both too intelligent for that."

He processed the back-handed compliment with a shrewd look. He was fighting to remain the dark and mysterious mutant but was losing that personal battle quickly. This was good. Now she knew how to pry information from him-straight forward – abrupt to the point of rudeness.

"No," he finally said. The internal struggle started again but was short-lived. "I…experimented. It wasn't what I was looking for."

"Sex addict?"

His eyes went wide."Wha…I…why the hell would you ask that?"

"Because I saw you leaving the company of a very questionable lady." Bored now with the lack of straight answers, Lanni released a deep sigh and leaned back against the couch. Its rusty springs gave a tiny protest. Sipping her tea, Lanni thoughtfully regarded Leonardo, trying to see the man instead of the job. He was messed up, there was no doubting that. Just how messed up was the question. Past redemption or staring over the edge and toying with the idea of plunging headlong into a world where he would lose himself completely and become something ugly and hollow. She guessed that he was one of those that thought about it, but still maintained the honor and good sense to hold onto whatever made him human.

"I'm not going to judge you Leonardo. That's the Lord's job, not mine."

"You believe in God?"

"Mhmm. Always have."

"But…you're an…well, you were an assassin. You've killed people."

"Yeah, and I'm sure the Big Guy will have plenty to say to me on that issue."

Leonardo took that in; then seemed to come to some kind of decision. He sat down beside her, wearing the look of a defeated man. "I've tried a lot of things since I left. A lot of things I'm not proud of. But I wasn't in a good place. I've…um…"

"Drugs?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "A few and only once. Pot, acid, cocaine…meth." The way he said meth, the catch in his voice, told Lanni this one had been the one that almost did him it. He'd done it more than once, but she let him lie to her and himself anyway. "Nothing made the pain go away and even if it did, it wasn't gone long enough. Jez…she understands. She comforts me and I can lose myself in her. There haven't been others, just her."

"How do you pay her?"

"Bust a few meth-heads and give her what I find."

"Cash?"

He shook his head. So she was a meth addict. She probably didn't understand him. All she understood was that he brought her drugs. And he probably knew that already.

"There are people out there who still care about you, Leonardo and they don't need a meth fix to do it."

"I know."

"They why are you still here?" She gestured around her. "Why do you insist on staying here when they need you?"

He scoffed and his features hardened. "They don't need me. They're old enough to take care of themselves. They don't need a big brother around to make piss-poor attempts at getting them to act as a team. Not much of a team anymore anyway."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Now, to play her trump card and see what Leonardo was really made of. "Donatello's back."

His mug slipped from his hand, its contents splashing over the area rug and Lanni's jeans and boots. His hands were shaking. He'd gone several shades lighter and Lanni started to worry. She hadn't meant to send the guy into a state of shock. "Leonoardo-."

"That's impossible. He disappeared."

"I know. That's why I'm here. They asked me to find you."

"They?" His defenses were up again. "Who exactly are they?"

"April, Casey, Michelangelo, Donatello."

"You're missing one."

Lanni smiled, noting the bitter edge to his words. "That's being taken care of as we speak. Angela was sent after Raphael."

"Oh, I'm sure she loved that." Leonardo picked the mug up from the floor and stood, making his way to the kitchen. "What did you have to do to get her on that job, hold a gun to her head?"

"Nothing quite so dramatic. It was just understood that she would be the one to track him."

"And bring him back dead?"

Lanni tilted her head to the side, studying him critically as he washed the dishes under running water. "Not much of a cynic, are you?" she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. Listen, your brother is back. He wants to see you. Whatever happened between you and Raphael…forget it. Donatello was very adamant that we bring you back and he's done nothing to deserve any form of denial from you, has he?"

Leonardo quickly shook his head. "No, he hasn't."

"Then I suggest you forget about your stupid fight with your brother and come with me."

"It wasn't a stupid fight," he snapped.

Lanni was fed up. She'd had enough of Leonardo's stubborn pride. She slammed her mug down on the coffee table, stood and stalked across the room until she was toe to toe with him. She glared and he glared back, his anger matching hers.

"Tell me something, Leonardo. And be honest. How would you feel if Raphael was dead?"

The color drained from his face and he unconsciously stepped back. The look on his face, the one he tried hastily to hide, was despair. Raw, naked despair.

"That's what I thought." She turned away from him, starting for the door. "I'm leaving. Whether you come with or not is your decision."

She didn't wait. She knew she wouldn't have to. When she left his rundown apartment by way of the back door that lead into the alley, he was right behind her.


End file.
